


round here, we're carving out our names

by littlehands



Series: If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehands/pseuds/littlehands
Summary: Smile - smile more darling, smile for the cameras.
Series: If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051001
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	round here, we're carving out our names

No one asks about her dreams, it’s always Malcom’s nightmares, his horror. No one asks if she dreams of death, if she dreams of their faces - young women, younger than her now. 

Because she’s an innocent, she’s the girl that had the luxury of not knowing. 

But she knows everything, every excruciating detail. Reading under the covers at night, all the clipping that Malcom tried to hide from her, he’s at college - he can’t protect her now. She never asked for the protection, never asked for the silence when she walked into the room - eager to show off a new blue ribbon, a new drawing. It was the way they froze, the way her mother’s face shifted, sliding the scars off for a picture perfect smile. 

Smile - smile more darling, smile for the cameras. 

She wanted in, wanted to be a part of the pain. The pain that colored her brother’s face, that silenced him, shrank him, that ate away at his soul. Their duo of hurt, how it drew a circle around them, binding them in. 

She knows, more than they’d want, more than they know - even Malcolm, she has good sources. Because that’s all she has, what other people say, grand jury testimony. 

She’s never hid from her name, out there on the 6 o’clock news for everyone to see. To judge, to comment on, but there is it, the link. She can’t break the chain, even though it’s been covered in silk, it is still there - finely spun silver links chaining him to her. 

Every day he pulls on that chain, tugging to make sure that she remembers (she has memories too, no one ever asks about her memories). Feather light, just at the back of her mind, right where everything is hazy and dreamlike - that’s where he lives, in the shadows. Each tug is a pin prick to remind her that she’s a part of it, part of the family. 

But she smiles, always smiles. 

One day, it will all crumble and she’ll be left in the ashes, holding the gathered chains.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello new fandom! 
> 
> Very rough, I hope to add more fics to the series as the muse moves me. Trying a bit of a new style, hope it works okay. Little editing, apologies for any errors.
> 
> Title from Round Here by Counting Crows


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